Carry On
by DarkSuperHunter
Summary: While investigating a case of ghosts in New Orleans, Sam and Dean Winchester start to get the feeling that something isn't quite right. Castiel is out cold. Vampires aren't acting or dying the way that they're supposed to. And the key seems to be in a tall goth who doesn't seem to want to share anything.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: So a friend and I have been looking around on the site and stumbled upon a few Dark-Hunter and Supernatural crossovers. Both of us being major fans of these fandoms, we decided to take a look and felt that things were rather lacking. Thus we decided that we should step forward and present our own twist on everything. So we hope that you all enjoy it. Also, it should be noted that this does take place during season 6 after episode 12 on the Supernatural timeline and at the very end of **_**Seize the Night_ in the Dark-Hunter series._**

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_**Chapter 1**_

It was a dark starless night in Louisiana as Sam and Dean Winchester drove along a deserted stretch of Highway 61 heading towards New Orleans where they have heard rumors of ghosts being seen all over the city. Dean was driving his beloved Impala with Sam pulling up more information about the job on his computer. Sam turned towards Dean and said "I don't know man, these stories don't seem right, something is off. These ghosts don't act like any ghosts that we have ever heard of before."

Dean turned to his brother, frowning. "Sammy, we just got through killing a freaking dragon, we deserve a break. I mean its New Orleans home of good food, wild parties, and lovely ladies."

Sam shook his head and replied "Come on man, this is serious."

"How different can this be?" Dean retorted. "We have gone in with less than this."

Sam sighed and stretched out trying to get more comfortable in the passenger seat. "I'm still not convinced, I have a bad feeling about this."

"Look man," the older brother sighed. "You have been edgy ever since we had to take the detour off of the interstate because of that pile up. Just relax and enjoy the scenery or something, we shouldn't be too far away now."

Sam looked around outside of the car and then replied "What is there to look at? All I see is darkness, there is nothing out here."

"Am I interrupting something?"

Dean swerved, startled by the new voice in the car. Once he was able to bring the car under control again, he turned to see Castiel sitting in the back seat staring at the brothers with no hint of expression of his face as usual. "What the hell man! Warn me next time you poof in out of nowhere before you scare me half to death and almost wreck my baby."

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "I have been here for the past five minutes. You are the one who has failed to notice my presence."

Sam turned in his seat to face the angel. "Cas, what are you doing here?"

Castiel tilted his head to the other side. "There has been some strange occurrences around New Orleans. Ghosts that are not ghosts."

"Yeah, we know that Cas. It's kind of why we're headed there," Dean shot back not sure at all where the angel was going with this.

The angel gave Dean a blank stare "That is why I am here, even the angels are concerned about these ghosts."

"So even the angels are spooked by these ghosts? Now, that is a first." replied Dean.

Castiel tilted his head and replied "Yes, and we-" suddenly Cas collapsed mid-sentence.

"Dean, pullover!" Sam exclaimed as he started to pull himself partly into the back seat to see if their angel friend is alive or not. Dean pulled the car to the side of the road and turned in his seat while Sam felt for Castiel's vitals. "Well, he is still alive, looks like his is unconscious...woah." he managed as he slumped back into his seat..

Dean became concerned "What is it?"

Sam shook his head "I don't know, but I just got really dizzy all of a sudden."

Dean started driving again and shook his head as he spoke. "I'm getting us to a motel and that's that. The ghosts can wait another night or two."

"No," Sam said emphatically. "You can drop me and Cas off and I'll look over him, but the last thing we need to do is to let this case go cold."

The elder brother was already shaking his head and putting a grin on his face. "It's not dropping it cold Sammy. Just letting it go for a little while. Trust me, will ya?"

Sam shook his head in return "This is too important Dean, if the angels are worried about this then I don't think that we can 'let this go for a little while.' "

Dean was silent for a moment before he simply threw his hands up in the air "Ok, fine, you watch over Rip Van Winkle there and I will go chase weird ass Ghosts."

The rest of the drive into New Orleans was uneventful. Dean pulled up to their typical style of motel called Motel du Monde. Dean got them a room with two beds. Once they dropped Castiel on one of the beds, Dean flopped down on the other one. Sam looked at Dean and said "What the hell man, i thought you were going to chase ghosts down?"

Dean looked at Sam and smiled sheepishly "And I will. I've been driving all night dude. Give me a break, alright? Four hours then I'll start hunting information and deghost the town while you and Cas sleep the days away. And of course I can have the rest of the week to enjoy the more pleasant things that New Orleans has to offer."

Sam scoffed and shook his head "You're unbelievable." Sam looked around "Where am I going to sleep until then?"

Dean pointed to a chair in the corner "Either that or the floor Sammy. Night."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: We do not own Supernatural or the Dark-Hunter series that would be a wonderful blissful dream. A glorious dream...a wonderful...I'll stop now. Have fun with the chapter!**_

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_**Chapter Two**_

It had been a long night, but Jean-Luc was glad to say that it was finally almost over. Or rather, he would soon have the chance to return to his boat once more and sleep. He needed it. Daimons really weren't supposed to be this hard to kill, but for some reason tonight it was like trying to fight the devil himself...or herself.

It depended on if you were talking to a Dark-Hunter or not.

In his case, he simply didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to find a normal Daimon and take out every last one of his frustrations on it. While that probably wasn't a healthy perspective given the fact that he was supposed to be a protector these days, he really couldn't bring himself to care.

Shaking his head, the former pirate continued down the streets of New Orleans. He barely made a whisper of sound as he moved. Having been alive for some three hundred years was good practice for that kind of thing. And practice was necessary when the last thing you wanted to do was for people to find out that you were alive or yourself at all. Humans tended to be rather foolish about how they acted with things that were different from them. Even some squires could be fools.

Just one more reason why he much preferred to live alone.

He paused at one of the intersections and considered simply heading back to the docks and calling it a night. He needed to get in touch with Acheron and figure out what was going on. Not that the boss didn't have enough on his plate. After all, the man was saddled with the never desired duty of attempting to corral and wrangle every Dark-Hunter on the plant. And no matter what most of them said, they all desperately needed it. Not that most of them would ever admit that they needed it. While every last one of them, himself included, was willing to ask Acheron what the hell they should do about certain things, they had a very bad habit of not saying thank you.

Jean-Luc had a feeling the man wouldn't know what to do if they did.

The thought brought a smirk to his lip. Now there was something to keep in mind. The look on Acheron's face when someone actually did say thank you, would likely be priceless. Of course, given who said it, it could also signal an imposter. The whole thing was up in the air like much of the life of a Dark-Hunter.

Moving away from the docks, he forced himself to keep monitoring the streets. The Daimons might not have given up just yet. There was always likely to be a couple of strays out and about. The last thing he wanted was to allow them to have even the slightest belief that they might get away with any of their shit, that the Dark-Hunter's might not be watching their every move. Paranoia was good for Daimons. Made them make mistakes. Made them stupider than they already were.

Then again, Jean-Luc had been certain, at least until tonight, that there was no such thing as an intelligent Daimon. His sore body told him otherwise. Tonight was something else and his gut told him that it was only going to get worse before it got better. Much worse. The thought was not one that made him feel better in the least.

His inner radar started to go off and forced him to slow his pace. Stopping was stupid. It drew attention to you. Something that he had learned very quickly when he had first taken the oath of a Dark-Hunter and started his own patrols so many years ago. No, people didn't notice when you slowed your pace, they noticed when you stopped. Even as he moved slower, he was reaching out, trying to find the source of the Fabio disturbance.

He allowed his feet to show him the way, blocking out the world around him. A little dangerous perhaps, but he honestly didn't give a shit. He just needed to find these damn Daimons so he could actually kill something and go home and get a good a good night's sleep. What was so wrong with that? Well, besides the very violent reaction going on in his brain right now. But, really, he had been a pirate in his life. He was a allowed violence even in death.

Jean-Luc was unsurprised when the second sense led him to an alleyway. It was terribly cliche, of course, but very fitting. After all, killing in the middle of a crowded street wasn't something that either Daimons or Dark-Hunters could expect to get away with in this day and age. Anyone who thought that they could were very quickly taught otherwise. Usually in the form of a very quick death in the middle of a holding cell. Luckily that kind of thing never required a cover-up...unless there was a witness.

Shaking his head, the Dark-Hunter brought the stiletto in his boot shooting up to his hand and hid it in the folds of the long black coat that he wore. There were other weapons in the beautiful arsenal that was available to the Dark-Hunter Community, but Jean-Luc had always enjoyed being up close and personal and there was something about a stiletto that gave him a satisfaction that things like swords and pistols never had.

The four Daimons came into view surrounding a dark-haired male who seemed to enjoy giving them lip to no end. He looked very human to Jean-Luc which made him curious. What kind of human had the guts to look a Daimon in the eye and smart off to them. Better yet, what human could look into the eyes of a Daimon and not fall under their sway? That was a mystery he would have to muse after he took pleasure in dispatching them.

"Now, now ladies," he chided as he shook his head, meager rays of light winking off his own fangs and the gold loop that sat in his ear. "You can argue about who's taking him to prom later. Right now, you all owe me a dance."

The man snorted and shook his head. "Why don't you just stay out of this buddy?" he said. "Walk away and let me and the girls handle it. I'll deal with you later if it really means that much to you."

"Silence human!" one of the Daimons growled backhanding the male.

Jean-Luc let out a sigh of exasperation. He was surprised to see that the man was able to keep his feet though as his head jerked to the side and he simply wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "Alright, now you've pissed me off princess."

It was tempting to just stand back and watch the human work. After all, he wasn't bad on his feet, but it was clear that he was out of his depth. Jean-Luc stepped up behind the first Daimon that made the mistake of turning its back on him and plunged the stiletto into its back, a dark smirk of satisfaction lighting his features as the thing burst into golden dust, freeing the poor soul inside of it.

The human stared at Jean-Luc, his eyes wide with surprise at the sight. "Shit," he breathed. The Dark-Hunter arched a single eyebrow before moving into a flurry of action. Two more lovely little puffs of golden dust had him feeling far more pleased about his night.

Two gunshots cracked the night air and forced a deadened silence in their wake. The fourth Daimon stared down at the wound that had hit where it's heart might have once have been, but not where the inkblot that marked it lay before it disintegrated. Not into gold powder, but a black ash as the Daimon crumbled on the ground, a red sheen covered the dark substance before it floated away on the breeze.

The second shot found its way to his own chest a few moments later on the wrong side of his chest. Or what would have been the correct side if his heart was on the correct side. Oh the wonders of being born strange. Jean-Luc looked down at the bullet wound before glaring at the human. "You're a damn fool boy," he snapped, his usually calm manner gone.

"You have got to be kidding me," the human breathed.

Jean-Luc allowed a bitter bark of laughter to fall from his lips. "Oh boy, you should have thought that through before you shot me. Either you're one stupid squire or an even stupider Ord. Either way, I'm going to kick your ass. Consider it a lesson in manners and who not to fuck with. This is my town."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Really sorry about the wait! There was a slight miscommunication on who was actually supposed to post the chapter so it's been done, we just forgot to post it. Forgive us? Please?**

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**_Chapter Three_**

New Orleans really was a beautiful place. Dean had been through the city a time or two which was technically a little on the dangerous side given the kind of shit he tended to leave in his wake, but what could a guy do? he refused to stop living just because he knew that that world was full of shit. He was a man who indulged in his vices and given all the shit he saw, he felt that he had every right to.

He didn't ask anyone else to agree after all.

Hell, he didn't even care if Sam agreed most days. No, that was a load of bullshit. He wanted Sam to agree more than anything. Sam was the only family that he had left. As much as the big oaf was a little shit most days, Dean would do anything for his brother. It was why Sam was currently back at the hotel sleeping on a bed with Castiel while Dean was out and about doing leg work.

And 'sightseeing' if you called ass watching that.

Shaking his head, the elder Winchester forced himself to turn away from the leggy blonde who had just walked past in a pair of shorts and focused, instead, on the bar that was supposed to have the most sightings. Work before pleasure he thought before he walked into the bar. Even during the day the air hung heavy with the scent of smoke and alcohol as he walked in and looked around. There was a very curvy brunette wiping down the bar. Dean sauntered up to the bar and leaned up against the bar in front of her and asked "So, are you closed or am I just in time?"

The brunette looked him over and got a seductive smile on her face "I think you came at just the right time, what will you have?" she said as she went around behind the bar.

"I will have a beer and a few moments of your time to ask you a few questions." Dean said as he took a seat on one of the stools.

The brunette gave a light laugh as she popped the cap off of two beers and handed one to Dean "Well, my name is Hannah and yes these are real." She said in a matter of fact tone while pointing to her prominent breasts.

Dean nodded his head in approval "That is very good to know but i actually wanted to talk to you about the strange sightings that everyone is seeing around town."

Hannah grew pensive and spoke in a low tone "This was one of the most popular bars in the district and was always full, but when customers started seeing things, they started leaving."

Dean leaned in "What kinds of things are they seeing?"

Hannah chewed on her lip in a way that distracted Dean from finding anything else out besides how she looked naked before saying "This is going to sound ridiculous but people are seeing ghosts of their dead loved ones."

Dean frowned as he was brought back to reality "How often does this happen?"

"Every night without fail and it just isn't here either this is happening almost everywhere. What's worse is that people have gone missing recently, I mean a lot of people."

This news worried Dean slightly. This meant that not only are they dealing with ghosts but they could be dealing with other things that make humans disappear. "Was anybody found after they disappeared?"

"A few people had been found, but looks the papers are saying that they were attacked by wild dogs."

That narrowed down the list of things-that-needed-to-die that Dean was compiling of possible candidates that abducted people. Dean finished off the rest of his beer before saying "Thank you Hannah and if you find out anything else please call me." he said as he pulled out one of his many fake cards that had his real number but a bogus name and title on it, this one had the name James Rhodes and depicted him as an aspiring author.

Hannah put her seductive look back on before writing something down on a pad of paper that she kept in her pocket that she proceeded to tear off and hand to Dean. Dean looked at it and it had her name followed by a little heart with a phone number on it. "Call me, I get off at eleven."

Dean smiled at the thought of spending some 'quality' time with Hannah tonight before he walked out of the door into the bright sunlight.

Dean next paid a visit to the Coroner's Office to see the bodies of the victims that were found, disguised as a fed. What Dean found was that each of the victims had similar wounds to their necks that looked like someone had chewed their neck up. The victims still had their hearts so that ruled out werewolves, and he could not find any fangs in any of the victims so that ruled out vampires. There was still a hefty list of things that could cause that which Dean will need to pick Sam's brain when he gets back to see what he can come up with.

After Dean finished up with the Coroner it was starting to get dark so he went back to the hotel to see his brother and the angel were awake yet. Of course the both of them were still out, typical. Dean put together a bag of stuff he would need to deal with the ghost problem. Dean paused before leaving to grab the Colt and a few extra rounds for it just in case. Dean still hadn't been able to figure out what was grabbing people so, it didn't hurt to be cautious. Hey, works on everything right?

Dean decided to walk instead of taking the Impala due to the rarity of parking around during Mardi Gras. Dean breathed in the heavy air with a sense of calm, this was where He felt the most focused when he is hunting one of the many things that go bump in the night. Dean decided to take an alleyway on his way to the bar that had the most sightings. Soon after leaving the main streets he got the feeling like he was being watched moments before he heard footsteps behind him. He stopped and turned around to see four blond guys strutting up to stand a few feet from him. Dean decided to go the diplomatic route "Well, if it isn't the Backstreet Boys for their comeback tour, sorry guys i ain't a fan."

the lead blond spoke up "Got quite a mouth on you boy, would be a shame to have your throat ripped out through it."

Dean readied himself but still kept up the attitude, maybe he can piss them off to where they make a stupid mistake "Now now ladies as much as i enjoy the flirting, i really must be going but you have fun with each other." he said with a smirk on his face as he turned to leave.

"No you don't princess, we aren't done with you yet, we..." the lead blond guy started to say but trailed off when they heard a new voice call out "Now, now ladies. You can argue about who's taking him to prom later. Right now, you all owe me a dance."

While Dean could appreciate the humor but this guy was raining on his parade and way out of his depth. He shook his head and said "Why don't you just stay out of this buddy? Walk away and let me and the girls handle it. I'll deal with you later if it really means that much to you."

One of the blond guys turned and backhanded Dean "Silence human."

Dean managed to stay on his feet with that shot, now he was pissed no one pimp slaps Dean Winchester and lives. Dean wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "Alright, now you've pissed me off princess."

Dean watched the newcomer move in a blur and stab one of the blondies, but the thing that surprised Dean the most was the fact that the body exploded into a flash of gold power. What the hell? Dean had never heard of anything that did that. "Shit" he breathed as he realized that he was dealing with something he never heard of in his years of hunting. Dean back pedaled while he drew the Colt from under his jacket. In that time span the...thing with the jewelry had stabbed two more turning them into puffs of gold dust. Dean lined up his shots and fired both remaining enemies where their hearts are. The blond didn't turn into gold dust like his buddies, but he turned into a pile of black ash. Dean saw a red sheen glide over the ash before it blew away into the breeze.

The second shot went right where it was supposed to be, but all it seemed to do was piss off the last guy, no dust or ash and certainly not slowing it down. Then it spoke to Dean "You're a damn fool boy."

Dean couldn't believe this, he shot him right in the heart and even the Colt isn't stopping this guy. "You have gotta be kidding me," he breathed out as the thing started striding towards him.

With a growl in his voice he said "Oh boy, you should have thought that through before you shot me. Either you're one stupid squire or an even stupider Ord. Either way, I'm going to kick your ass. Consider it a lesson in manners and who not to fuck with. This is my town."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: We do not own Supernatural or the Dark-Hunters. We just enjoy making up stories.**

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_**Chapter Four**_

Leaning against his staff, the goth leader of the Dark-Hunters watched as the golden dust that had been a daimon only moments ago drift away with the wind. There was a shifting in the world around him, in its very fabric and he could feel it. The feeling had him on edge. What was worse was that he couldn't see anything. He was blinded to the future for the first time in a very long time.

That should have comforted him, not set him on edge as it did.

Ash shifted and looked around the alley, making sure that nothing was left untouched by his gaze before he started back towards the lighted streets. Something had happened last night. Something that he knew would change the world forever. He knew it had happened somewhere in New Orleans, but he had yet to figure out what it was. Of course, with this much being hidden from him, it could only mean one thing. And that was not something that the Dark-Hunter was willing to dwell on.

Dismissing his staff, the Dark-Hunter stepped out into the light. Ash had to ignore all of the people who noticed him, some stopping to simply stare at him. He knew what he looked like and he knew it wasn't really his looks that drew people. They would have all run in fear if they knew what he really was and what he could do. Instead they stared at him longingly despite the black and red hair that fell around his face and the black clothes that screamed anti-social.

At least they didn't bother him as he started down the street trying to decide what he should do next. He had to check in with the others in town of course. There was too much going on for any of them to be silent for any period of time. At least this wasn't like last time when Styxx had showed up. A shudder ran down the man's spine at the memory. Never would be too soon to see that bastard again, no matter the relationship between them in the past or in the future.

His phone went off in his pocket and Ash considered ignoring it for two seconds before he pulled it out and actually checked the number. "Hit me," he answered quickly wondering what it was that Jean-Luc wanted. At least this one was one of his more practical hunters. He actually chose to try and figure out shit on his own before he ever called Ash. Of course that did have it's downsides as well. He was hoping this wasn't one of those times.

"We might have a problem," the former pirate admitted. "I have a human here who just took out a Daimon with a gun."

"A gun?" Ash paused in the middle of the street, ignoring the shock that it caused as people were forced to move around him.

"Oui," Jean -Luc affirmed. "And the little asshole shot me too. Twice. Now usually I'd just kill him and be done with it but I figured-"

Ash was only half listening to the Dark-Hunter as he moved off the street again and to another alley before he used the open phone line to locate the Dark-Hunter and flashed to the alleyway that the two men were currently occupying.

"You're calling your boss at a time like this?" a human male demanded from his place on the ground. Jean-Luc stood over the male with on booted hoof pressed down on the man's chest while the other held the phone to his ear."

Jean-Luc glared down at the human. "Yes, it-Oh, shit Ash! Can't you warn a man when you're going to do that?" he demanded.

Ash smirked, a hint of fang showing through as he shrugged. "A man has to have his fun," he granted with a shrug. "As you obviously are," he pointed out as he surveyed the Dark-Hunter. He had been shot twice, once in the chest and once in the stomach. Ash could only imagine how badly that hurt. "You should go home and call your Dream-Hunter. Let me deal with this one."

The former pirate hesitated looking both hopeful and uncertain. "You sure boss?" he asked. "I can-"

"Go," Ash ordered. "I can handle one human on my own." Jean-Luc hesitated a moment longer before he nodded reluctantly. Ash watched the former pirate retreat and waited a little while longer before he turned his full attention on the human.

At least, he thought that the man in front of him was a human. Honestly, the leader of the Dark-Hunters wasn't sure. There was something...off about the man. Something that marked him as different as if he didn't quite belong in this world. It was easily enough to have Ash on edge. "So why don't you show me your gun?"

The man snorted, his finger brushing along the trigger as he eyed Ash. "I'll pass thanks."

A smirk curled Ash's lips as he shook his head. "I don't think you understand. The question mark at the end of the sentence was simply me pretending to be polite. You'll show me that gun."

The man tsked as he shook his head. "Sorry, I don't really take orders from anyone, including a douchebag who wears sunglasses in the middle of the night."

Honestly it was like dealing with most of his Dark-Hunters, lots of pride and the inability to remember why threatening someone more powerful than you was a bad idea. But it wasn't as if he could tell the human what he actually was. No, he had to go about this all a different way. "What happened when you shot that Daimon?"

"What?" the human couldn't have sounded more startled if Ash had grown two heads.

Ash crossed his arms and looked down at the man. "What happened when you shot the Daimon?"

"You mean the vampire that I killed?" the man asked.

A smirk tugged as the corner of Ash's lip and he nodded. "Yeah, that thing. As much as I harass them, my boys aren't that easily spooked."

"Maybe you'd like to find out first hand," the man said bringing up the gun and resting it on his shoulder.

The leader of the Dark-Hunters silently weighed his options. He could just walk away and leave the human alone but there was this little feeling like the kind when you forget to turn the light off at home and you just don't know what you forgot. He couldn't just walk away. And for some reason, this human was being obstinate. "I'm really trying to be nice about this," Ash finally said with a sigh.

The human smirked. "Look pal, I don't know you. I don't trust you. By rights, I should be finding a way to kill you right now, not chatting with you."

Ash couldn't help but laugh at that last comment, a very dark, rich sound "Good luck with that," he said half-growling. "Now, why don't you just tell me what happened when you killed the vampire."

There were several seconds of tense silence as the two men surveyed each other before the human finally shrugged and allowed the hand to fall down to his side, the gun simply hanging in his fingers. "It crumbled into black and red dust."

Ash stared at the human for several moments not quite believing what he had just heard. He had never heard of such a thing happening and it made him more than just a little uneasy. Allowing himself to reach into the pull and sway of the world, he used a part of his powers that he rarely admitted to as he tried to find something, anything to explain what was going on. But all he could feel was discord and uncertainty. History was rewriting itself with each moment. The future was uncertain.

And this male was part of the reason why. "Well, so much for leaving you to the squires," Ash muttered darkly. It just really wasn't his night.


End file.
